Howl
by tendernesss
Summary: A new girl in Santana's life may just save her from her downward spiral. A Brittana story loosely based on Florence and the Machine's "Howl."    Rated T for now.
1. Chapter 1

"If You Could Only See"

But, she's not afraid. Santana hears herself telling Mrs. Pillsbury this for the third time in the past ten minutes. And it's true. She's not. Santana's not afraid of many things. Her fears can be counted on one hand and they are as followed: the citizens of Lima, Ohio finding out how she really feels about girls, inheriting her grandmother's atrocious crows feet and being raped.

Death was not on this list. Death has never been on this list. It's not because she's feels invincible. She's young and she knows it but she's always be acutely aware of her own mortality.

"I've never been afraid of dying." She hears herself say out loud. Mrs. Pillsbury crinkles her nose and bites her lips in a way that Santana knows mean she doesn't believe her.

"Santana, I think these sessions would go a lot smoother and be a lot more beneficial for you if you were honest with me..." She drifts out as Mrs. P begins to ramble on about how pure an truthful heart is and how many doctors believe that it will prolonge your life span.

Santana still can't seem to put her finger on her guidance counselor. She seems to genuinely care about the students. That's when she's not lusting after Mr. Shue or the hot ass pseudo-doctor husband of hers. She watches as the older woman rambles on excitedly, her hands flying animatedly in front of her. She was kind of odd looking. But, in a good way. Like a beautiful bug-eyed mouse lady.

"Santana, I think we should get your parents involved in this-"

And that's when Santana snaps back into reality. Her eyes bulging, battling with Emma's to be the biggest. "You can't do that."

"I want to help you, but I can't if you won't talk to me." Mrs. Pillsbury replies earnestly.

"Look. It was a mistake. Okay? Accidents happen. I don't sleep at night and I was tired. So I took some pills. They're prescription-"

"A prescription that belongs to one of Rachel Berry's dads. And you didn't just take some pills. You took half a bottle and you washed them down with a bottle of bourbon. That also belong to Hiram Berry."

Santana doesn't have a response for this. In all honesty she wants to spit back that Mrs. Pillsbury's a liar. Because this doesn't sound like something she would do. But, she knows she did. Although past seventy-two hours of her life are covered in a thick blanket of fog she can see patches. She remembers going to Rachel's house for another so-called "party" at Sam's beckoning. She remembers venturing upstairs away from the party and into Rachel's dad's bedroom. She remembers pocketing the bottle of sleeping pills and swiping a bottle of bourbon before leaving without telling anyone goodbye.

She knows that her feet directed her from Berry's house to the park.

But, that's it.

When she came to she was vomitting in the back of Mr. Shue's car. He brought her back to his house and she begged him not to tell her parents. She even thinks she may have offered sexual favors. He agreed to keep quiet if she agreed to start seeing Mrs. Pilsbury.

So here she sat. Telling the truth yet still not being believed.

If she needed to embellish she would. She's a natural born actor. And a fantastic liar. So it wouldn't be too hard. She would say anything to keep her parents uninvolved. They had an unspoken agreement.

If Santana stayed without a child, out of jail and without a drug dependency the y would stay out of her way. It wasn't the most nurturing arrangement, but it worked for the Lopez's.

It worked for Santana.

"Are you listening to me?"

Santana snapped her head back toward Mrs. Pillsbury. Clearly she wasn't

"I am."

Emma's worried eyes flickered down as she scribbled something on a notepad.

Showtime.

"I had fight with Sam..."

Mrs. Pillsbury lifted her, intrigued and hopeful. Maybe she could get to the bottom of this. "Keep going..."

Santana's brain kicked into overdrive as she began fabricating a lie simple enough to be believed because this was high school. "I saw him flirting with Quinn...They used to date, before he realized that I was the hotter piece...We got into a fight when I asked him about it. He said he wasn't. And I mean, I should've believed him because only someone with a severe case of the blind would choose Quinn freaking Fabray over me."

"And that's why you took the pills?"

"It was stupid I know. But, I was sad." Santana replied, shrugging her shoulders a bit.

Clearing her throat, Mrs. Pillsbury began to gather the papers that were spread across her desk, "Honey, boys like Sam Evans will come in go. But, there's only one you. And you should be more careful with the only Santana Lopez that there will ever be."

"I know."

Santana watched as the gears turned inside of her counselor's brain. Her tiny little mouse lips twitching as if she was on the verge of saying something, but stopping short of actually speaking.

"You can go now." she finally managed out.

"Are you going to call my parents?"

"No."

Relieved, Santana stood, letting out a deep breath.

And the Oscar for most convincing boy crazy, basket case of William McKinley High goes to her she thought as she made her way over to the door.

Please hold your applause.

"But, maybe you can think about actually being honest with me before we meet again."

Santana stopped short at the door, her hand idling on the knob. Again she found herself without a response.

Without looking back, she leaves.

* * *

Things had gotten better in the weeks that had gone by since she she had told Brittany she loved her. Well, maybe not better. But, they had gotten more normal.

She still couldn't look Brittany in the eye or sit by her without halving the conflicting desires to shove their bodies together and/or punch the blonde square in the face, but she was working on it.

She was working on not loving Brittany and as long as Brittany didn't come near her she was fine.

But, her resolve had broken at Rachel's party. Brittany was drunk and Artie was too discracting doing whatever people in wheelchairs do at parties to notice when Brittany had grabbed her hand and pulled her upstairs.

For the record, Santana was strong for the first, like, three minutes. Even when Brittany had her mouth clasps firmly to her neck. Even when her hands got dangerously close to being called textbook sexual assault.

Santana was strong.

But, then Brittany kissed her. A delicious concoction of peach shnapps and the sweetest blonde filling her mouth. And she was gone.

She pushed the voice that said she was taking advantage of her drunk friend as far back into her head as possible and she pushed Brittany on to Rachel's dad's bed. Her body fitting against her like a puzzle piece.

Santana tore at Brittany's bra, her mouth latching onto the first bare piece of skin she found. She fought back moans as Brittany forced her hand into her jeans forgoing unbuttoning them as she blindly made her way to Santana's center.

"I've missed you..." Brittany whispered softly into Santana's ear as her hand slid idly over Santana's embarassingly wet panties.

Just as Santana felt the words she should've never spoken about to spill over from her lips yet again, Artie's voice cut through the air.

Ruining everything.

"Baby, we gonna be out! Puck's ready to go. Let's roll!" he shouted from somewhere downstairs and Brittany groaned.

"You're seriously not about to leave right now are you?" Santana spat out her voice firm, but her heart shaking.

"I have to. I told Artie's mom that I would go with her in the morning to shop for matching shirts for our cats. She's letting me spend the night...In the den. But, I like it better down there than in Artie's room anyway. It has a television and they get Showtime-"

"Brittany your hand is in my pants right now." Santana interrupted.

The blond underneath her grinned, "I know. If my hand could talk it would say it missed being in your pants."

"We're totally getting it on on Rachel Berry's dad's bed and you want to leave?"

"I don't want to leave, but I have to. I promised his mom." Brittany replied too simply.

Too simply, Santana thought as she removed Brittanys hands for her and stood up. Her arms automatically crossing in her standard defensive position.

"Why do you keep pretending like you owe him something? You don't. Boys don't get shit when it comes to us. We make the rules." Santana snapped.

"I don't understand." Brittany said as she began to put back on the little bit of clothing she was wearing before she entered the room.

Of course you don't understand, Santana thought. But, that wasn't a good enough excuse anymore. Brittany was simple, Santana knew this. But, if she was wise enough to understand Artie's feelings. If she was lucid enough to understand that if she broke up with him, it would break his heart than she could damn well understand Santana.

"What about the things you promised me?" Santana asked her voice cracking.

This was not the route to go. Santana knew it as Brittany's head tilted to the side her face contorting with even more confusion.

"I don't-"

"Understand." Santana finished for her.

"My mom and dad finish each other sentences." Brittany smiled. This was a good thing. Her mom once told her that when you find someone that can finish your sentences then you've found someone who truly knows you...

Brittany's pretty sure she meant a boy. But, Santana's got boyish hips so that's pretty much the same thing.

"Baby? Let's bounce!" Artie yelled again from downstairs.

"I keep telling him that it's pretty unlikely with those wheels that he'll ever be able to bounce. Maybe we can raise money for one of those balloon castles that we had at my tenth birthday party? We can throw him in there and watch him fly-"

"This was a mistake." Santana spoke suddenly. As if realizing it for herself for the first time.

"Don't say that."

Admittedly that was not the reply Santana was betting on hearing. She was mentally preparing a speech to explain to Brittany exactly why it was a mistake when she gave her the stock, "I don't understand."

"I've really missed you. I've really missed my friend."

"I can't be your friend, Brittany."

"But, you love me."

A pain began to creep up at the back of Santana's head. The first warning signs of immenent tears. She needed to get our of here.

"You love me." Brittany pressed on.

"No, Brittany. I'm in love with you. It's a little different and honestly I don't have the time to explain it to you."

Santana quickly shoved her feet back into her boots as Brittany watched silently from the opposite side of the bed. She sat down heavily on the bed, more exhausted than she had been since she had stopped cheering for Coach Sylvester.

"...Just get away from me, Brittany." Her voice was low and filled with pain. Honest pain. It was the kind of sound you make only after realizing that you've lost something you loved.

And that's how Santana felt.

As if Brittany was a million miles away from her. As if she was born in an entire life apart, but she still knew that somewhere in time she existed.

"But, you-"

"Get out, Brittany." Santana said against her voice cutting into the blonde's skin. Hurting her the way only Santana could.

Slowly she turned. Opening the door, the music and laughter intruded into the stillness of the room. A crude reminder to Santana that no one cared that she was hurting. Brittany took one last look back at the slumped shoulders of her ex-best friend and the most confusing person she had ever met and left out of the room. She shuts the door quietly behind her, once again closing off the room.

Once again leaving Santana alone. Santana lied back onto the bed, her body tired, but her mind working in overdrive trying it's best to process what just happened.

She just wanted to shut it off. She just wanted to sleep. So, she stood making her way to the bathroom, opening up the medicine cabinet...

* * *

Santana beelined down the hallway, past the class she was supposed to be attending, past Mrs. Pillsbury's office and into the girls bathroom. She quickly dived into the first vacant stall and braced herself against the toilet as her stomach turned against her and she began hurling up the pop tart she had forced down that morning at breakfast.

This was all her mothers fault. Every couple of months, Mrs. Lopez decided to take an active roll in her daughters life. Which included making breakfast. Well, what Mrs. Lopez considered making breakfast. A healthy serving of strawberry Pop Tarts and a half a glass of OJ. The breakfast of champions.

She couldn't tell her mother that solids hadn't been agreeing with her the past few weeks. Instead she forced it down with and even more artificial smile than usual.

And this was the clear aftermath of a caring mother. Vomitting in a public bathroom for the entire world to hear and gossip about the possibilites Santana Lopez having an eating disorder.

Her stomach emptied Santana stood upright. Catching her breath, she flushed the toilet with the toe of her boot.

Even in the midst of an early morning crisis and her entire world crashing around her, the tiny Santana voice in her mind quietly complimented herself on her successfull accusations of such hot boots. Stealing was an art form. And as far as Santana Lopez was concered she was Jackson freaking Pollock.

Satisfied that she wasn't going to explode again, Santana unlocked the door and made her way out of the stall only to find a stranger waiting for her.

A stranger who looked oddly familiar.

"I had a bogus Pop Tart for breakfast. You tell anyone about this and I'll curb check your ass, Eddy Norton style." she spat out before the girl in front of her had the chance to speak.

"Everytime I see you, you're wretching up your lungs. Me'thinks you may have a slight problem." The girls voice was deep, but delicate. She had a slight smile on her face and aviators hanging off the collar of her shirt.

She leaned against the bathroom stall, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her beat up blue jeans. Her hair was a dark brown and wavy, hanging just past her shoulders.

"You don't remember me?" She asked a light laughter spilling out.

"No, I don't. You do look kind of homeless. Have I given money to you before?"

"I'm not homeless." She was still smiling, which Santana didn't understand because that was clearly an insult. Maybe she was retarded to boot?

"Fair enough. I don't really give money to the homeless. Or anyone for that matter."

Done with the conversation, Santana turned to the sink closest to the door in an effort to make a quick getaway as soon a she finished washing her hands.

The girl waited until Santana had lathered her hands with soap before speaking again.

"I'm Julia..." Her voice trailed off as she watched to see if any light bulbs went off in Santana's head at her name. When an unfazed Santana gave her a blank stare she went on, "I was the one who found you a couple nights ago in the park. You were throwing. I found Mr. Shue's phone number in your wallet and called him..."

Santana stood frozen at the sink, the water running over her hands.

"I'm glad you're okay and I hope things work out with that Brittany chick."

With a knowing smirk, Julia pulled a couple paper towels from the dispenser setting them next to Santana who stood motionless.

"I'll see you around."

And with that Julia was out of the bathroom.

Santana's heart racing inside her petrified body. She had no idea who this girl was but she could potentionally know the one thing, the number one thing, Santana was most afraid of.

Damage control needed to be done...As soon as she figured out how to make her legs work again.


	2. Chapter 2

"The Beast You Made of Me"

Santana felt a hand snake up her abdomen coming to rest unassumingly on her breast. This was the morning after and she was already thinking of an escape plan. Rousing from her slumber, she tossed Puck's heavy arm off of her.

"You have to go." she said curtly as she stood pulling the sheet along with her.

But, Puck knew that already. He knew the drill. Hell, he pretty much invented the drill.

He sat up in bed, shaking his head. A fruitless attempt to knock the sleep out of his body.

"What are you going to tell the daughter of Moby Dick?" she asked sliding on a pair of shorts and one of the shirts Brittany had left behind. A loose, olive green v-neck. She never washed it and she only wore it when she knew she wouldn't be leaving the house. It still smelled like Brittany.

Puck bit back the urge to curse instead he shrugged his shoulders as he redressed himself. "I'm not telling her anything."

"Ah, but I thought love meant honesty?" she asked her voice dripping with sarcasm.

She pushed him out of the way as she began to strip her bed. When it came to boys, the morning after smell was the worst. She needed her bed sheets clean as soon as possible.

Sliding on his boots, forgoing lacing them Puck watched her work, his hand idling on the door knob.

"What are you going to tell Brittany?"

Her body tensed, but her arms continued to pull at the bedspread. Puck knew that she loved her. The whole Glee club knew. He didn't know to what extent. But, he was eager to push buttons. Brittany seemed to be the one thing that got a rise out of her these days.

"I asked you a question." His voice came out gruff.

Santana spun around, her signature bitch smirk playing on her lips. "I'm going to tell her that I used you for sex. I'm going to follow up with that it was mediocre."

He shot back a glare. She knew how to play this game too.

"Anymore questions?"

He wordlessly grabbed his bookbag off of the floor and opened the door.

"Also, Puckerman you should be thanking me. Everyone knows that pet rhino that you parade around under the rouse of being your girlfriend thinks a hanjob equates to adequate sexing. I did you a favor."

"Screw you, Santana." He spat. One foot in her room, the other out the door.

"You know what? When we were screwing on the regular your insults were a lot more original. Like Lauren's three stomachs, you've gone soft."

She shot back her retort with lightning speed. She knew how to pack a verbal punch without second guessing herself.

She knew how to hurt someone.

Without a word Puck moved his other leg across the threshold of her bedroom and made his way out of house all the while cursing himself. He didn't like her, but he knew that as soon as she called he would be right back in her bed.

She preferred it when the boys didn't say goodbye.

Most of them thought it would offend her so they'd tried to make small talk until Santana inevitably cut them off mid-sentence and kicked them out.

Before her heart turned against her brain and selfishly decided to love Brittany, Santana had a precise exit strategy for the boys she snuck through her window. Kissing was kept to a minimum as was talking. The only words that needed to be spoken was a hurried, "Do you have a condom?" And of course the appropriate response.

But, more often then not, she felt herself wanting to ask them to stay. If only to hold on to the fact that someone actually wanted her a little longer.

* * *

Julia's last name was Donovan. Santana found this out by pulling the fire drill during Spanish class and rifling through Mr. Shue's desk while everyone filed out onto the school grounds. She was a transfer student from Florida and she lived at 2048 Gallagher Drive-

Santana's black Jetta pulled up to 2046 Gallagher Drive. She shut it off and steeled herself as she opened the door. Grabbing a bottle of $6 wine she walked up the lawn and rung the doorbell of the blue two story stucco and waited.

She could hear shouting from inside and moments later the door swung open to reveal Mercedes, her hair in rollers, draped in a teal house coat. Her face fell. Santana held out the wine.

"I brought booze."

"How did you find my house?" Mercedes asked looking past Santana half expecting, well she wasn't sure what she was expecting but she knew it wasn't Santana turning up out of nowhere wielding wine.

"I snooped through Mr. Shue's desk. Invite me inside."

"Hell to the no. And put the booze up, my parents are home."

"And I'm sure they would be super disappointed to hear you speaking to a guest this way. They raised you better than that, Wheezy." Santana replied pushing pass Mercedes and walking inside.

An incredulous look plastered on her face, Mercedes shut the door and followed behind Santana. "Why are you here?"

"We're friends. Where's your bedroom?"

"We're not friends. We hate each other. Follow me." Mercedes motioned for Santana to move in the direction opposite the lively chatter that spilled out from what Santana guessed was the kitchen. Instead they turned a corner that lead to Mercedes's room at the end of the hall.

Safely inside Santana stashed the wine in Mercedes desk. "A gift for you. No need to thank me."

"Is this about Brittany?"

Santana felt that familiar constriction begin inside her chest at the sound of the girls name. She had stopped trying to fight it a long time ago, instead choosing to let the pain flow through her. A constant reminder of what she lost.

Of what she never really had.

"Why would this be about, Brittany?"

Mercedes sat down on her bed, her back leaning against the headboard. "Who are you kidding, Santana. Everyone knows you got it bad for her-"

"Shut up." Her arms were crossed again. Defense shields up. It was mechanical. She did it without thinking.

"I don't get you Santana."

"What's there to get?"

"You're supposed to be this bad ass. This take no shit from no one chick. But, this scares you?"

"Don't act like you know me."

"I won't pretend to. But, you openly, you PROUDLY spout off at the mouth about all the boys you make it with, but you won't admit how you feel about, Brittany? That's weak."

Mercedes took a bottle of clear nail polish out of her nigh stand and began to paint her nails. Santana stood frozen in the middle of the room. Once again unsure of what to say. She uncrossed her arms and sat down on a blue computer chair.

"This is your house so I'll refrain from punching you in the face for that little outburst." Her voice was meek and her eyes were glued to the floor.

"It's weak."

"I told her I loved her." her voice soft, her eyes still glued to the floor Santana didn't notice when Mercedes, in shock, knocked the bottle of nail polish over.

"What?"

"A couple days after we sang that song with Ms. Holiday. I told her I loved her."

"What did she say?"

"She said she couldn't leave Artie."

"Well, that's understandable. Artie's a good guy."

Santana's head snapped up quickly, her eyes hardened, "Artie treats her like she's got a severe case of the Becky. It's patronizing and she deserves better."

"Like a girl who won't subscribe to label enough to tell the world she loves her?"

"Listen Wheezy I didn't come here for a heart to heart, alright?"

"Which brings us back to my original question. Why are you in my house?"

"I need a favor."

* * *

Her hair in bouncy curls, Mercedes clutched the bottle of wine nervously as she walked two houses down to 2048 Gallagher. Until Santana had mentioned it she hadn't noticed that the house had gained new tenants.

As she glanced back Santana gave her a thumbs up and her best shit eating grin from her Jetta. Rolling her eyes Mercedes forged ahead and rang the doorbell.

No answer.

She rang it again. This time it was snatched up by a groggy Julia.

"Are you a Jevoha's witness?"

Mercedes held out the bottle of wine, "I brought a welcome to the neighborhood present. It cost six bucks."

"My parents aren't home."

"It's for you. You go to McKinley. You have Mr. Shue for Spanish."

"It's kind of creepy that you know so much about me." Julia replied wiping her eyes and grabbing the bottle out of Mercedes hand. "I'm Julia."

"Mercedes. I'm in Mr. Shue's Glee club."

"Those kids who get slushied?"

"That would be us."

"Oh. Cool..." Julia shifted her weight uncomfortably, "So, I'll guess I'll see you at school then?"

"I actually had a question to ask you."

"I definitely do not want to join the Glee club."

"No, that's not it. And besides we have 12 kids. I was wondering if you could tell me what happened with Santana Lopez?"

"Pertaining to?"

It was Mercedes turn to shift uncomfortably as Julia's once relaxed demeanor, stiffened.

"I heard she like tried to OD or something at the park."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh. I thought that you were the one who found her?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Julia's voice had a bite to it and Mercedes unconsciously stepped back. "I think you should go now."

"Yeah, it was nice meeting you." Mercedes turned to walk back to her house.

"You know I wouldn't go around talking about something you clearly know nothing about." Julia called after her. With a quick nod of agreement, Mercedes hurried back to the safety of her home.

* * *

_Santana, panting and dripping with sweat lied splayed out on her back, against her bed. The weight of Brittany's body pressed against her own was the only thing keeping her planted on the earth, but she was slipping. _

_Two slightly curved fingers plunged inside of her. She swallowed Brittany's fingers all the way up to her knuckles. Brittany set a rhythm. In and out, in and out. A 1,2 movement that packed a punch and tore like shrapnel through her body. _

_It was a good pain. A pain that traveled through her every limb, pooling at the wet mound between her legs. A pain that stripped her of any cognitive function. _

_She could only lay there and moan as Brittany's unrelenting fingers worked her into a frenzy. As her mouth latched onto her neck leaving a mark that meant she belonged to someone. _

_That she belonged to Brittany_-

It wasn't working.

Santana kicked the covers off of her over-heated body and pulled her fingers out of her panties, wiping them on the bed sheet. This was her go-to memory when she needed to get off and didn't have Brittany to help her.

This was the moment that she has stored away in a vault inside of her brain. It was only the third time they had had sex, but it was the first time Santana forgot that she was sleeping with her best friend. Who happened to be a girl. And that they happened to be doing it two rooms down from her parents.

It was the night she had recklessly given herself over to Brittany. Let herself be devoured by nimble fingers and a hungry mouth. The next morning she had the marks and sore muscles to prove it.

It was the first time she had ever closed her eyes during sex. It wouldn't be the last.

With Brittany at least.

Santana stood and opened her window. She let her upper body hang out as she tilted her face toward the swollen moon and let the cold air create goosebumps along her skin. She stole a glance at the digital clock that rested against her wall, 4:32 AM.

Sunrise would be coming soon and along with it school. And along with it, Brittany.

* * *

With two muscle strapped football players flanking her sides, Santana strode down the hallway clutching a slushie and mentally playing duck, duck, goose as she passed terrified students.

"Duck..." she grinned at a chunky red head-

"Duck..." she shot a glare to a tall soccer player-

"Duck..." she motioned to throw the cup of goo at a nerdy blond kid who fell into his lockers-

"Duck..." that Hispanic kid with a studder was safe-

"Goose."

She came to rest in front of Jacob Ben Israel. He pressed himself against the door to the boys bathroom, but it was too late. Red slushie launched into the air coating his face, matting into his Jew fro. He let out a small gurgle as he collapsed to the floor in a heap. His glasses falling off of his face.

The football players high-fived behind her and she tossed the cup to Jacob's feet.

With a turn on her heel, she sauntered down the hallway. The students parting as she walked. She stopped at her locker and quickly dialed in her combination.

"But, I love his hair." Brittany's voice was even and it was right behind Santana.

Still pulling books from her locker, Santana didn't turn around, "His hair's atrocious."

"Santana-"

Stuffing her Science book into her bag, Santana slammed her locker. "Don't you have a boyfriend to be escorting to class right now?"

"We haven't spoken since Rachel's party. I need to tell you about what I caught Charity doing. Besides Artie's at home sick."

Santana had to bite her tongue to resist asking what Charity, Brittany's cat, had been up to. Fake or not, the cats escapades were some of the funniest things she'd ever heard.

"I don't want to talk to you, Brittany."

"Yes, you do. I can tell by the way your body leans in to me." Brittany replied, leaning against their lockers. "You may not miss me but your body sure does."

These moments of lucidity always took Santana by surprise. So much so that she felt the corners of her mouth turn up into a grin, "Where the hell did you get that from?"

"Charity told me. We've been talking about our situation. She told me to give you this." Brittany reached into her book bag and pulled out her diary, handing it to Santana.

"Is this your diary?"

"Yeah, she wants you to write down your feelings and get it back to me so she can read it...She's really good at relationships, Santana. She's been pregnant three times."

Laughter spilled out from Santana's lips. A sound foreign to her ears.

"I've missed that..." Brittany said quietly her eyes roaming over Santana's shining face. "I've missed hearing you laugh."

"I haven't had much to laugh about." Santana replied. She was suddenly aware of how close Brittany was to her. Of the ever familiar, always intoxicating scent of her former best friend. Of the unrelenting throbbing at her core that her own fingers and Puck's penis couldn't satisfy.

What happened next she really couldn't be held accountable for.

* * *

Two fingers, curved slightly plunged into her. Santana bit her lip as her breath hitched in her throat. She threw her hands out to brace herself against the walls of the small supply closet as her legs begin to tremble beneath her. Brittany brought her free hand around to Santana's ass and squeezed tightly as she pulled Santana impossibly close.

They crashed to the floor in a heap, Santana's hands tangling in Brittany's hair. Their mouths found each other in the darkness. Santana's moans grew louder, but Brittany continued her assault.

Brittany was cheating on her boyfriend and she knew it but she didn't care. She didn't care because it was Santana. She didn't care because she wanted it.

Santana knew what was happening, but she couldn't process it. Like all the times before she could only concentrate on the unrelenting fingers that moved in and out of her. Like all the other times before she could only clutch possessively at Brittany's body, her tongue darting in out of Brittany's mouth. Her teeth nipping at Brittany's skin.

And like all the times before she just closed her eyes and let the feeling overtake her.


	3. Chapter 3

_**So, let me prelude this by letting you all know that I'm the most time insensitive person ever invented. But, I'm a full time college student and I have a job. I know these may sound like excuses for why I'm so update lazy, but they're not. They're obstacles. Summer's coming soon though and I'll have more time on my hands. Hopefully I can set up a designated day to have a new chapter out each week. Although, I'm a bit hesitant to declare one because what if I don't make the cut off? Then I would be some untrustworthy internet troll who doesn't deserve your reviews or story alert subscriptions. **_

_**Also, about those. The reviews/the alerts/the subscriptions? THANK YOU! I started writing this story to work out my own Brittana angst issues and the fact that so many of you have latched on is pretty fucking sweet. If it seems weird that I have "Brittana angst issues" in the first place let me explain that by saying that I get WAY too involved in television shows. **_

_**This chapter is a little shorter than the others. And lacking on the Brit part of Brittana. But, to it's core this is a Santana centric story. I'm trying to feel her out still.  
**_

_**If I'm too be completely honest with you, I would have to say that I like the story alert/author subscriptions much more than I do the reviews. (BUT, I STILL REALLY DO LOVE THE REVIEWS) The subscriptions, to me, say that this is not some fickle infatuation and that you are in it with me for the long haul.**_

_**The long U-Haul if you will. **_

_**Again, thanks so much for reading. And that goes for Like a Sore Thumb and that other story that I wrote who's title I can't really remember at the moment. **_

_**I'll shut up now, but if I had to pick a day to update each week it would be Sunday.**_

_**But, again...**_

* * *

"I've Held it in, but Now it Seems You've Set it Running Free."

Okay, the fucking truth of the matter? She is really good at sex.

Like bragging rights, should win a trophy, doesn't get much better than this, good.

The kind of good that gets building or highways named after it.

She's known this for awhile now. Ever since the first time she made a boy come. Which, in all honesty, wasn't very hard. Isn't very hard. Boys are like the simplest math equation ever invented. Not, that she's any good at math. But, she doesn't have to be because boys are that easy.

Rough hands+well timed moaning= Instant boy orgasm.

Fucking girls, well there's no plural. Fucking Brittany is a whole new ballgame.

A whole new math equation.

Laying there and clenching the inner walls of her vagina at the right moment, just doesn't cut it. Didn't cut it.

"Why is all this important?"

Santana stops in her track, looking like a freshly manicured deer caught in headlights. She spins around and does little to hide her aggravation over being interrupted by Ms. Pillsbury.

Emma stared back at her wide-eyed, as if at any minute she was going to spring from her chair and bolt down the hallway yelling about over-sexed teenagers à la Sue Sylvester.

"What do you mean, why is it important?" Santana spat the words back. As if it was the most ridiculous question the counselor could ever ask.

She knew it wasn't. Actually she was kind of shocked the counselor lasted this long without jumping in or spraying Santana down with the bottle of Lysol that teetered on the edge of her desk.

Santana had barged it, without warning or an appointment half and hour ago and had since been spewing off at the mouth about everything and nothing. Skirting the edges of what she really wanted to say because she knew if she said it, if she spoke the words into the universe, she was going to regret it.

"As honored as I am that you've decided to entrust me with the complete history of your sexual escapades, I'm not sure where it's leading -also, if I'm being honest with you, I must say that I am shocked that only Quinn Fabray ended up pregnant."

As she spoke, Ms. Pillsbury began to spray down her desk with her beloved can of sanitizer. Santana watched her silently.

"I thought that I was only gay for Brittany." Santana began softly, glancing behind her to make sure they were still completely alone.

Emma put down the aerosol can and took her gloves back off. Her large eyes now completely trained on Santana.

Only Santana doesn't really know what she wants to say now.

"But...?" pushes Emma.

"But...I think that I'm just...gay. Like textbook gay. Like not just in love with my best friend."

There were the words, bouncing around the room. Heavy and thick.

She pressed on, "Did I tell you that I loved her? Everyone else seems to know, so you probably do too...I mean, really no one can keep a fucking secret anymore."

Emma gave her a small smile, "Having romantic feelings for your friends is absolutely normal during your teenage years, Santana. Especially for girls-"

"We do the dirty. Well we did, we haven't since Tuesday in Mr. Kidney's storage closet. So save the lecture of the innocent feelings that blossom from the sisterhood of a girl on girl bond."

Quiet now. The comforting smile completely gone for Ms. Pillsbury's face, replaced by shock and something a lot like envy. Her mouth parts to speak, but Santana raises a hand instantly shushing her-"I'm not so sure I like this anymore."

"Not so sure you like what?"

"Me."

Santana could feel the tears begin to sting against her eyelids, a burning embarrassment she tried to hide with a quick shake of her head.

Ms. Pillsbury stood and Santana stepped back. Not wanting to be touched.

If Emma was to be completely honest. This was over her head. Three months ago, if someone were to ask her to counsel the Latina, she would have jumped at the chance. It was an easy assessment of a teenage girl who wanted everything in the world, but didn't deserve any of it. A archetype of the cliche mean girl. Santana was vapid and cruel. But, that wasn't the case any longer.

Santana Lopez, queen bee of all of the bitches in William McKinley High was the most complex person she had ever met.

And she didn't know how to help.

Santana seemed to sense it and with one deep breath she left out of the office.

* * *

She'd been making mistakes all week.

The first, of course, was fucking Britt Britt in that broom closet. Not only because she had once again shown Brittany that she wanted her only to have Brittany go right back to Artie, but also because she's pretty sure she was bitten by a spider.

So when she found herself sauntering over to Julia's cafeteria table she chalked it up to yet another stupid mistake to add to her count this week.

Julia sat by herself reading what Santana was pretty sure was the world's most boring book judging by it's cover and eating Jello.

"I'm not joining Glee club." She said without looking up from her pages.

"I'm not inviting you."

Recognizing Santana's voice, her neck snapped up quickly. She grinned. Santana pretended not to notice how pretty her hazel eyes were. Which wasn't too hard. Santana's good at pretending.

Good at stuffing down what she really feels.

"What's up?"

This was a good question. It had taken her almost all of her lunch period to work up the nerve to walk over to Julia's table and now that she had she wasn't sure what she wanted to say exactly.

Or why she was even there.

Julia grinned again, trying to ease Santana's apprehension. She held out her bowl of jello.

"Want some?"

"I don't eat anything that comes out of this cafeteria." Came Santana's reply as she eyed the green glob suspiciously.

"Well then where do you eat?"

"I use to be a Cheerio."

Julia cocked her head to the side, her face scrunching in confusion, "I don't know what that means."

"It means I don't eat."

"Well clearly_ that's_ an exaggeration."

Unwrapping her arms from around herself, Santana held up a hand to Julia, "I'm sorry did you just call me fat?"

"Yes."

"I will shove that spoon down your throat and use it to scoop out your insides."

Julia laughed loudly, her head tilting back, drawing looks from other students. Santana, much to her own disbelief, couldn't help but smile.

* * *

Julia's family moved to Lima from Florida to be closer to her Grandmother who was in the early stages of Alzheimer's. Her dad was a physical therapist and her mother was a kindergarten teacher. She had an older brother named Seth who was in the military and a younger sister who needed scheduled insulin shots to control her diabetes.

Julia hates the following things: brown rice, Ohio, Florida, spiders, insects, roaches, pollen, humidity, triple digit weather, below freezing weather, actually anything to do with nature really, chocolate and mice.

She use to be on the swim team back in Florida but quit once she found that smoking pot was much more fulfilling. She knows every Spice Girls song by heart and she can name the entire track listing of P!nk's Missundaztood album in chronological order. Technically she's Jewish, but her family isn't committed enough to their religion to give up bacon. She has her driver's license but is forbidden to use the family car because the last time she was behind the wheel she ran into their ex-neighbors porch. Julia admits, that it was probably partly her fault seeing as though she had downed four buttery nipple shots and chased them with three shots of Patron. But, the Saints had just won the Superbowl so cut her a friggin break.

Also, she's gayer than Christmas.

That textbook gay, Santana had spoken with Ms. Pillsbury about? That was Julia Donovan. And because of this little bit of information Julia had casually let out in between her ramblings earlier that day at lunch is why Santana found herself in the middle of Lima, Ohio's premier carnival. A place she had vowed to never return to since she was ten and the tilt-a-whirl's safety bar had flopped open and sent her flying out.

They strolled through the dusty makeshift roads eyes scanning over various pieces of metal contraption's of death. Santana's pulse racing, her breath steadily hitching in her chest making it hard for her to breathe.

She wished it was because of the six-year-old ingrained fear of this place that had her working overtime to inhale and exhale properly as they walked, but it wasn't. The fear and the tension came from the knowledge that she was walking around in a public place with an out and proud lesbian.

It came from wondering what people were thinking of her. Did they think she was one too? Were they making mental notes to slushie her in the hallway tomorrow morning? Were they going to tell her parents? Were they-

"We have to at least get on one ride, Santana."

Julia's voice sliced into her thoughts. Not missing a beat, Santana shook her head, "No."

Emphatically, not.

"Dude, we drove four fucking hours to get out here, I'm not going back until I get on the Ferris Wheel."

"This place is a dump. It's been a dump since it opened six years ago. Every consecutive year that it has pitched its tent it has been a dump. And it's dangerous. Also, I have no qualms with leaving you here. Actually? I'm leaving. You can stay if you want."

Santana turned on her heel, but before she could place her left foot in front of her right, Julia had her by the arm pulling her in the opposite direction and toward the massive Ferris wheel.

"I will break your nose if you do not get your hands off of me." She struggled against the taller girl, but the lean muscles in the ex-swimmers arms were stronger than she had thought.

"You know, San. Can I call you San? If we're going to be best friends, you're going to have to stop threatening me."

Julia hastily weaved herself and a struggling Santana through the crowd and to the Ferris wheel's gate. She handed over four tickets and a quick smile at the sweaty Carney who's eyes widened alarmingly as Santana began to shout, "RAPE!" as Julia hauled her into one of the bucket seats.

"She's a deeply, deeply disturbed girl." Is the only explanation Julia tossed back.

With one last apprehensive look at the duo -at Julia's hand bound tightly around Santana's wrist he flipped the switched and the wheel jerked to a start. The girls sailing slowly up to the sky.

Safely off the ground, Julia released her hold. With rapid fire, Santana sent a punch that landed squarely between Julia's breast in the middle of her chest, knocking the wind out of her.

"What the hell?"

"I HATE this place!"

"You punched me." Her voice came out in a rasp as she sucked in gulps of air, her hands massaging the pain away.

Santana scooted to the other side of the seat, white-knuckling the sides of the cart as it began to rock.

They came full circle back to the Carney who had lit a cigarette, "Let me out!" Santana shrieked.

"Ignore her!"

"I gotta take a piss." Came his reply as he stubbed out the menthol and walked away.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!" Santana's voice traveled across the grounds as they were once again offered up to the setting sun.

"This is not a good start to our best friendship, Lopez." Julia's voice was even, the pain gone, replaced by a gentle numbness.

"We're not friends!" Santana hissed.

"You're angry and you're saying things you don't mean." They had made it up to the top again, Julia glanced down at the small sea of ant like people scurrying across the lawns. "Maybe it would help if I rocked us a little?"

"NO!"

The small smile they had been playing across Julia's lips faltered. There was something besides agitation in Santana's voice now.

"Are you scared?" Her voice was low and apologetic.

"I just haven't had a good experience with this place before in the past." It wasn't a lie. But, Santana wasn't about to start listing off her weaknesses to a relative stranger.

"I'm sorry. And as soon as that guy comes back I'll get us off of here...Also, I promise as your new best friend that I will be more considerate of your feelings."

"Stop saying that." Santana interjected before Julia could keep ramble on. "Stop saying we're best friends. We're not."

"But, we could be."

"No."

"Why not?"

Santana didn't answer. Her eyes roamed across the tree tops and she mentally kicked herself for not having the ability to fly. She didn't want to be there anymore. Not because of the creaking of the Ferris wheel. Or because of the smell of imminent death looming in the air.

But, because Julia was looking at her with her kind eyes asking her in her kind voice about why they couldn't be friends.

Asking her to tell secrets.

Julia watched her wordlessly. Santana's eyes never left the trees.

"Santana...?" Julia's voice was reassuring. Like, Ms. Pillsbury's. Like Brittany's.

_Brittany._

She let the name echo across her mind for a moment, before mumbling, "People run from me."

A soft hand reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek. She hadn't noticed she was crying, but the simple touch opened a flood gate. Julia said nothing as she crossed the small expanse, rocking the seat slightly and wrapped her arms roughly around Santana.

They had come full circle again and were now on there way back up and there she sat. Sobbing in the arms of a girl she didn't know. In public. Humiliated and heart broken. And unable to calm herself.

Moments like these were what she worked so hard every day to prevent. When you're a bitch, people take notice and they stay away. They're afraid of you. If anyone gets hurt, it's them.

Santana had perfected this knowledge ages ago.

But, Brittany had stayed. Santana was kind to her. She showed her mercy, but in that she had no choice. Brittany made her merciful. She made Santana want to do stupid shit like read her stories, or make her breakfast, or watch John Hughes movies.

And now Julia. Who, for the past hour, Santana had done nothing but bitch at. Done nothing, but halfway listen to. Done nothing but hope people didn't really notice that they were together because if they know what she knew about Julia then they might get the wrong idea.

Wrong ideas lead to gossip.

And gossip kills.

In spite of how Santana had treated her though, there Julia sat rocking her gently. Letting her tears and snot and pitiful murmurs ruin her shirt. Once Santana had calmed and the body shaking sobs had died down to a quiet tremble, the Ferris wheel had already circled around twice. Santana peeked out from where her head was buried in Julia's neck and saw the Carney on his way back from the bathroom, wiping his hands on his tattered jean shorts.

She pulled away from Julia, never making contact as she wiped her eyes.

"Santana?"

The talking had come too quickly though. So she piled on the snark as she scooted as far away as she could in the cramped confinements of the Ferris wheel's seats "Look, I'm sorry for my Lifetime moment. I think I'm going to get my period soon."

"Be that as it may..." Julia said as she used her sleeve to help Santana dry her face, "I'm not going to run. And you can't make me."

"We'll see about that."


	4. Chapter 4

I had a sudden jolt of creativity and energy and so here I am with another chapter to lay at your feet. I must say I'm overwhelmed at how many story alerts and whatnot that I've gotten since the last chapter, thank you all so much! And of course, thank you to those who take the time out to review. It means a lot. This chapter was getting a little lengthy so I decided to chop it up into two sections. Also, to the person who stated in their review that they thought Santana should end up with Julia and if she did end up with Brittany it should only be if she forgave Britt completely. I get what your saying. You make perfect sense and hopefully through my interpretation of this awesome ship I can make sense of everything else as well.

Again, thanks so much for reading and reviewing and alerting. You humans rock.

Oh and I don't own Glee or any of these characters. I just thought I should throw it out their for legal reasons. Also, that T rating is going to take a turn for the worse pretty soon. Or I guess, actually, for the better.

* * *

"Screaming in the dark, I Howl When We're Apart"

In spite of how distant she had been in Glee club the past couple of months Santana had still managed to create an alliance of sorts. A pair of merciful human buffers in the form of Mercedes Jones and Tina Cohen-Chang who kept her, for the most part, from verbally ripping apart every single person in their tiny universe.

As Mr. Shue strolled into the choir room, fashionably late and calling for everyone to settle down, Artie wheeled himself into the middle of the room asking for the floor. With a encouraging nod, Mr. Shue stepped to the side, taking a seat next to Rachel.

"This is for my girlfriend, Brittany. You're the best, baby."

Brittany grinned, all saccharine and sunshine.

The band started up and Artie launched, vocals at full force, into a pitifully sweet rendition of James Blunt's "You're Beautiful."

"James Blunt? Are you fucking kidding me?" Santana's hissed, her voice cracking. She focused on Brittany for a moment and saw the elation in the other girls face as she swayed back and forth, her eyes never leaving Artie's. Warm and proud. Trying to keep her quiet, Mercedes squeezed onto Santana's left hand as if to say, it'll be over soon.

Her gripped tightened around Mercedes hand and her breath hitched in her throat.

Glancing over, Tina watched as hurt and exhaustion and the inability to stifle down sadness played across Santana's face. In an act of, what she thought was compassion for Santana and hopefully understanding from Artie, Tina stood and shuffled over to the drum kit, where she proceeded to grab the snare and throw it against the cymbal. A loud clanging, banging sound split through Artie's mellow voice.

Mr. Shue stood, "Tina what in the world are you doing?"

Tina growled from somewhere deep within and through clenched teeth she snarled, "I _hate _James Blunt! You _know_ that, Artie!"

"I'm sorry, I forgot!" Artie's eyes were wide behind his glasses. He rolled himself backward slightly, away from Tina's domineering figure.

"Tina, if we don't like an artist, we wait until the very end and give constructive criticism. We don't interrupt a fellow team member mid-song and we definitley don't damage school property." Mr. Shue said picking up the drum, examining a rip through the skin.

Gathering her bearings, a slightly winded Santana came to Tina's defense, "Oh please Mr. Shue. Berry get's heckled mid-song like every other day. I know because I'm usually the one doing it. It's only when one of the guys are shut down that you feel the need to enforce rules as if they've been here for decades."

Rachel's head perked up, "That's completely true, Mr. Shue in fact I still have not been able to get through the seminal classic My Heart Will Go On without-"

"Shut up, Berry." Santana cut in.

"They have a point, Mr. Shue." agreed Mercedes as she cautiously released Santana's hand. "You pick favorites and most of your favorites are boys."

"That is not true, you guys. I love you all equally and I appreciate your talents equally."

"I believe you." Finn spoke up giving Mr. Shue an affectionate smile.

Mr. Shue waved a hand toward the tall football player, "See?"

"Of course Finn believes you, he's one of your favorites." Rachel intoned as she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "I'm surprised that this injustice hasn't been brought up sooner."

Will's eyes scanned across the room, "I never meant to make any of you feel that way and if I did, I am truly, truly apologetic."

Mr. Shue kept the momentum going after that and for it Santana was grateful. She glanced quick smiles to Tina and Mercedes for their unconventional acts of kindness. For a diversion from the song that could've broken her. But, seriously, James Blunt? It was like Artie wasn't even trying. From the look on Brittany's face it seemed as if he didn't actually have to.

As an apology for his oversights, yet again, for the girls in the group Mr. Shue proposed that next week assignments be songs of whatever the girls-and just the girls-chose. An entire Glee session devoted entirely to them.

"I wanna see some stripping!" Puck hooted out as the guys clapped.

"Mr. Shue? If I could please say something?" Without waiting for an answer, Rachel stood grabbing her purse. "Hello, class. It seems that we've arrived at the time of year again. Tomorrow, on the exact day, sixteen years ago I was born into my dad's life forever changing their destinies-"

"And they're still looking for the return to sender button."

Ignoring Santana, Rachel pressed on, "I've decided to throw a soiree of sorts and I've invited all of you." She began to pass around pink envelopes, "In lieu of presents please donate a sizable monetary gift to our local branch of Save the Music or the fabulous people at the ASPCA-"

"Excuse me?"

Julia's voice waifed in from where she stood in the doorway. She tossed a grin over to Santana before her eyes found their way back to the teacher in the classroom.

"Oh good, yet another person to interrupt me." Rachel glared over at Julia as she reclaimed her seat next to Brittany.

"Can I help you, Julia?" Mr. Shue smiled warmly as he beckoned Julia inside of the classroom.

She stepped inside dubiously eyeing the misfit bunch of kids, "I"m trying to conjugate the verb, "to beat" and it's proving to be quiet difficult."

"You're hot." Puck stared her down, eyes roaming over Julia's body.

Brittany grinned and leaned back, high-fiving Puck, "Totally hot."

"Brittany, Puck enough." Mr. Shue warned not looking up from Julia's spiral notebook of conjugations.

Julia swiveled around to Brittany, her eyes ghosting over to where Santana sat with her eyes still trained on Julia. "You're Brittany?"

"Sometimes." Brittany bit on her fingernail.

"When are you not, Brittany?"

"Well sometimes Artie likes me to wear blue extensions and pretend to be-"

"Brittany! I-I-I told you some things are...private." Artie's voice came out in a shriek his eyes worriedly scanning Tina who was thankfully too immersed in Mike's abs to notice the slip of Brittany's tongue.

"These verbs are conjugated perfectly." Declared Mr. Shue as he handed back the notebook. "You did great."

"I know." Julia shrugged her shoulders, more interested in the way Artie's eyes kept flickering between Brittany and Tina and Brittany's eyes kept shifting between Artie and Santana and Santana's eyes who steely glared back down at Julia's own.

"What?" asked Mr. Shue, "I thought you needed my help?"

Finally peeling herself away from the silent, hazy love triangle Julia turned her attention toward her Spanish teacher. "I'm like a friggin Spanish super genius, Mr. Shue. And what I don't know my friend the El Chupacabra up there in the red dress does for me."

All eyes turned to Santana who had been silent up until that moment. For the first time that day Brittany allowed herself to look at Santana. They hadn't spoken since that Tuesday in Mr. Kidney's closet. Brittany tried, but every time Santana had shut her down.

And yesterday, Santana had searched her out in the courtyard and Brittany had to remind herself to breathe. But, she only wanted to return her diary. Enthusiastically Brittany had leafed through the pages, but was met only with her writing.

That's when Brittany realized they were still not on speaking terms and she was still without her best friend. It was best not to look at Santana because when she did she was met, for the most part, with glares. But, not now. Now, Santana was too concentrated on the new girl in the room. As if they new each other. Which didn't make sense because Brittany knew everyone Santana knew. A sudden jolt ripped through Brittany's stomach. What if Santana was off meeting new people to replace her? Her eyes came to rest back on Julia. She was hot. She could definitely be a suitable replacement.

"I guess this is as good as time as any to tell you that paper she turned in yesterday was done, for the most part, by me." Santana grinned wickedly down at Julia.

Not one to miss a beat, Julia held up her hand in mock disbelief, "Slander."

"Liar." Santana shot back.

"Future Anger Management Patient."

"Domestic violence victim."

"Cry baby."

"_Rug muncher_."

"Fraidy Cat."

Santana scoffed, "Of course you would bring it back around to puss-"

"GIRLS!"

Shuester held up his hand to silence them terrified of how far the verbal blows would escalate if he allowed it to continue. "If you would like to sit in with us Julia that would be fine, but we're going to have to get back to work."

"Nah, I'm gonna go."

Santana gathered up her book bag and purse as she rose, "I'm gonna bounce too. This place was getting way too Kumbaya-e for me. Mercedes? Cohen?"

Mercedes and Tina stood, following Santana to the door.

"I guess we will see you guys Monday morning then." Mr. Shue said to their retreating backs.

"Don't forget about my party tomorrow!" Rachel called after them as they rounded the corner out of the room.

Outside of the school, Mercedes and Tina linked arms as they trekked to Santana's Jetta giggling as they recounted Tina's dramatic display. Julia held out her hand in front of Santana.

"Let me see your keys?"

"Why?"

"I'm driving."

Santana rolled her eyes, "You are not driving my car. My car is an extension of me. If you wreck it I will die."

"But, you don't know where we're going."

"Where are we going?" Tina asked.

They had made it to the car, but no one made a move to step inside.

"I don't know." Santana looked to Julia, who grinned again.

"Give me the keys."

Julia held out her hand, wiggling her fingers. Reluctantly Santana held them out.

Mercedes and Tina high-fived letting out hollers into the afternoon sun. They had no idea of their destination. But, there was something infinite about the possibilities. The heat mingling in with that sweet Friday afternoon smell, made the energy electric and they did little too contain themselves as the piled inside the car. Julia in the driver seat and Santana her co-captain.

They blared the stereo and rolled down their windows making sure that humans and Gods and animals knew that this afternoon belonged to them and them alone.

And in their uncontrolled excitement, no one noticed Brittany watching from the school steps, her fingers wringing each other's and her eyes sad, but unwavering from a smiling Santana.

* * *

As it would turn out, Julia was a fantastic driver. She had a lead foot, but she was constantly aware of her surroundings. Something Santana couldn't claim as a truth for herself. When Julia veered onto I-75, the girls began to make round robbins to their parents.

_"Lisa, I'm staying with Santana tonight to work on another version of Trouty Mouth..."_

_"Ay ma, Wheezy and I are gonna crash out in from of her tube and eat frosting out of the can..."_

"_Hey mom, is it cool if I stay over some friends house?... But, wasn't it you who said that I needed to start meeting new people...? Thanks!_"

_"Mom, is it okay if I stay with Tina tonight?...No, that Lopez girl isn't going to be there..."_

Santana swiveled around in her seat as Mercedes snapped her cellphone shut, "The fuck?"

"My mom doesn't care really for you."

"Why?"

"Uh, because the first time she met you, you asked her how it felt to have a daughter on such an iconic show as The Jefferson's and then you tried to get my little brother drunk."

Tina shot and incredulous look at Santana, "You what?"

"Look he was fourteen and he was jonesing for a wine cooler. I drank wine coolers when I was fourteen and I turned out just fine."

Laughing, Julia flipped her visor down to look at Tina through the small mirror, "You call your mother by her first name?"

"She insists on it."

"Where are we going?" Santana asked applying lip gloss to already overly pouty lips.

"Dayton. There supposedly going to be some massive rave there tonight. But, I mean this is Ohio, so we'll see about that." Julia replied flipping the visor up and bringing her aviators from her head to rest on the bridge of her nose.

"But, Dayton is two hours away."

"Good thing we're all staying at each others house, right?"

Julia grinned again. She did that a lot. And for it, Santana was thankful. She'd been finding that since she had lost Brittany, she needed to be reassured about pretty much everything. Julia's grin, impulsive and white, was consoling. A little, on the shit eating side, but none the less comforting.

She sat back as Julia cranked up the stereo. Her Ipod shuffling over to Bright Eyes, "Lover I don't Have to Love."

_"I picked you out of a crowd and talked to you..."_

Santana let her head fall back against the seat. The afternoon sun casting a glow against her golden skin, filling her up like magical rays of comfort. She caught Mercedes reflection in the passenger side mirror and her stomach sank.

She quickly whipped out her phone and after finding the other girls name she typed out:

**You know I'm jking right? About the Jefferson thing?**

She sent the message and watched as it delivered to Mercedes and she read it. She looked up to find Santana staring intently at her through the mirror.

Her reply came seconds later,** That is some kind of an apology.**

Santana read the message and frowned, before she could type back Mercedes shot her another text reading simply, **I know, Stick Figure. Chill. **

Santana looked up and grinned, Mercedes returned the smile and they both pocketed their cells.

_"...Your hands on me, pressing hard against your jeans, your tongue in my mouth, trying to keep the words from coming out..."_

Once again, Santana let her head bob backward, her eyes closing as she began to hum along with the music. From the back seat Mercedes and Tina began belting out the song.

_"...You didn't care to know..."_

Soon after Julia sang along.

_"...Who else may have been you before..." _

In that moment, Santana let her mind rest. It had been in overdrive trying to figure out exactly how things had gotten so bad. It was a murky cesspool of memories that she wanted to forget, but wouldn't allow herself. Couldn't allow herself. They were mostly of Brittany. Of late nights with Puck. Of lying to her parents and more recently to herself. It was a gross collage of a girl on the verge. The verge of what? She wasn't sure of.

But, for a second, she was met with a perfect silence on the inside.

And as the chorus began to thunder through the car Santana found herself shouting at the top of the lungs with the others,

_"I wanna lover I don't have to love, I want a girl who's too sad to give a fuck. Where's the kid with the chemicals? I thought he said to meet him but, I'm not sure. I got the money if you got the time. You said it feels good. I said I'll give it a try. Then my mind went dark..."_

She screamed out the song along with her friends, a tremble of excitement threatening to rip through her entire body. She'd been feeling something lately. Intermixed with the sadness and the confusion and the insistent urge to change time something else was stirring. It was a constant inch at the pit of her belly. It was a fever dream that she could not sweat off. It was hot and dark and painful.

It was Brittany. The ghost of Brittany. Moreso Brittany's voice, purring in her ear. Vibrating on her flesh. It was Brittany's ghostly fingers. Sliding along her smooth expanse of skin. Entering inside of her, filling her up until she couldn't take it any longer and she melted into little tiny pieces of sweaty Santana.

She was being brutalized by some phantom menace. Taunted by the reminders of soft blond hair and hopeful smiles. It overwhelmed her to a point that she would find herself doubled over, clutching the sides of her toilet retching up her lungs.

Or she would find herself screaming in her car all alone. Taking refuge in the way her voice bounced around the small confines only to slam back into her. A constant beating.

She felt it now and she let it out. Her cries mingling in with her friends as they howled, they're voices carrying out of the windows getting lost along the interstate. She was singing and she was screaming and her friends were oblivious and smiling.

However ignorant they were of the animal inside of her that was ripping her to shreds, she was appreciative of their ever growing presence in her life. They were with her and they were steady. They were with her and they weren't running. They didn't even looked poised to sprint off in the distance as soon as she turned her head. As soon as she barked at them. As soon as she bit and drew blood.

They were with her and they were unafraid. So, she continued to sing.

"...love's an excuse to get hurt...and to hurt..."

* * *

The sun had vanished completely from the sky when they finally made it into Dayton. A couple of wrong GPS directions and miscalculated turns had put them almost forty-five minutes behind schedule.

Julia reached into her pocket and brandished a crumpled clipping advertising the super secret members only rave. Santana laughed at the possibility of anything in Ohio being members only besides the churches. They drove through a residential neighborhood and into an urban arena of apartment buildings and small businesses. Julia slowed to a crawl as they made their way down a mostly darkened street, stopping in front of a seemingly abandoned building.

"This is it?" Tina asked her eyes looking over the darkened building apprehensively.

"482 Eager Drive. Yep."

Scrunching up her face and peeling her eyes away from the imposing building Santana turned to Julia, "Uh, yeah. Eager to be raped. I'm not going in there."

"I'm gonna have to agree with Santana on this one. We would be in so much trouble. I mean, we're not supposed to be here in the first place. If we get hurt and actually survive imagine what our parents would do to us." asserted Mercedes. The energy from earlier in the afternoon had finally relented making way for late night second guessing.

Tina reached for her handle and opened the door, stepping out.

"What are you doing?" Mercedes questioned reaching out to pull her back in but just missing the hem of her black skirt.

"I came here to party. Mike's been super into his dancing lately and although I love that he barely has his shirt on anymore he pays me like zero attention. It's like dating Artie all over again, but with functional legs...And muscles. So I'm going in there and if there isn't a rave already I'm going to start one." Tina reached into her bag and pulled out a handful of multi-colored glow sticks, "I brought glowsticks. And I'm gonna use them."

Slamming her door, Tina made her way across the street. Shrugging her shoulders, Julia grinned at Santana as she shut off the car, "You heard the lady."

Before Santana could protest Julia was out the door and jogging over to catch up with Tina who had made it up the building's steps.

"I guess we don't have a choice, Mercedes."

"I wish Rachel were here."

"Why?"

"She carries a rape whistle. At all times."

"That's just wishful thinking." Santana said as she opened her door and stepped out.

Grabbing tightly to Mercedes hand they made their way over to the building following the other girls inside.

There was little light inside except for the shadowy glow the streetlight cast. Santana waited a moment as her eyes adjusted to her new surroundings.

"Psst!" Tina voice hissed through the air from the other side of the room. She was standing with Julia next to a door marked basement. "Listen."

She cracked open the door and the hard, steady pounding of a bass beat filled the air. She shut the door quickly, grinning excitedly.

Santana smiled. The excitement from the day coming back into her body at full force melding in with that constant desire to break something, "Holy sweet hell, did we really just find a rave in Dayton, Ohio?"

Julia beamed proudly back at her, "I think we did."

They took a second to savor the moment. A collective energy spreading across the room. Santana even let herself think, for just a moment, how Brittany would've looked if she had been there with them. All wide eyed and elated.

Tina backed against the door swinging it open, the bass once again filling the room, "Ladies...?" she beckoned as she stepped back and let them all pile inside, the door swinging shut behind them as they tramped down the creaky, slippery steps.

**TBC.**


	5. Chapter 5

So, that T Rating is definitely changing to an M for this chapter. Beware of that kids. As always thanks for your patience and reviews and alerts. This is my longest chapter. Almost five thousand words! A small gift for being so terribly update lazy. I'll warn you though, Santana's kind of a mess in this chapter. So, if you're on a canon high and don't want me raining on your parade, then I suggest not reading any further.

* * *

"Drag My Teeth Across Your Chest To Taste Your Beating Heart"

The thing about school? It doesn't prepare you for the real world. Teachers and perky, red headed guidance counselors don't prepare you for the possibility of finding yourself packed body to body in a humid basement. Strobe lights and black lights and sweat and yelling and muscles grinding on each other and you don't know if you're in heaven or hell.

Tina's got a penchant for trying new things. A brave streak that Santana never knew existed until the new wave goth girl of the Glee club stumbled over, already two drinks in the hole clutching a handful of small powder blue pills imprinted with a unicorn's head.

"What are these?" Santana asks as Tina tongues a pill down and shoves the rest into Santana's hand.

Tina laughs loudly, Santana knows it's loud by the way Tina throws back her head, but the sound is swallowed up by the room.

A body, warm and immediately familiar presses against Santana's back and Julia breathes down, hot into her ear. Her hand clasps around Santana's pill filled fist. Julia wiggles a digit in between Santana's hand and fingers out a single pill putting it in her mouth. Santana turns her neck to watch as Julia wiggles the pill on the tip of her tongue, grins and and in a blink of an eye it's gone and Santana's wondering why she hasn't moved her body from where it stands lodged against Julia's.

Her eyes lock on to Julia's and even though her neck is beginning to hurt from the strain of their position she doesn't move. Doesn't falter as Julia's hands tighten their grip around her waist, holding her impossibly close.

Without blinking Santana takes four of the pills from her hand and moves to cram them into her mouth, but Julia grabs her hand, "Just one."

"I want to make sure they work." Santana has twisted herself around to stare straight at Julia who's arms have come to wrap around Santana's waist and rest right above her butt, hands locked together.

"One's all you need. Trust me."

Reluctantly Santana pulls a single pill and dry swallows it. The bitter tab slides roughly down her throat feeling three times its actual size. She wonders, for a moment, what she's done.

Smoking pot and drinking cheap beer was one thing. The pill, currently on it's way to creating what better be some life altering outer body experience was a horse of a different color. Her eyes flickered down to the sweaty pills in her hand. It wasn't a horse at all, it was a unicorn.

Sensing her discomfort, Julia pulled her in tighter and rested her head against Santana's ear, "Are you okay?"

"Fine." Santana mumbled against Julia's shirt. A sweet smelling mixture of delicate perfume, sweat and skin.

"This your first time?"

Santana shrugged her shoulders, her heart racing. Why was her heart racing? "Maybe."

Julia chuckled lightly into Santana's ears. She began to sway them back in forth slightly. Santana let the remainder of the pills fall to the ground as she hooked her arms around Julia's waist and buried her face into the serenity of Julia's familiarity.

Her heart beat quickened even more so, from the pills or from the closeness, she wasn't sure and she stretched her jaw as it began to tighten.

* * *

Admittedly, Santana had no idea who the girl in front of her was. She knew a name had been yelled over the bass and it sounded something along the lines of, "Kerstufllkkd." Maybe she was Turkish?

Also, admittedly Santana's not really sure when or how she met her. But, the cool thing about this place is that it's so small and so cramped that it's like you already know everyone around you and everyone knows you and they love you and they want to make you happy and when Santana screamed into the air that she was a lesbian, everyone screamed with her -even Mercedes and Tina- even though she's pretty sure no one really heard what she said. They didn't care. They didn't care because it didn't matter because they loved her. Everyone in that basement loved her.

What she does know besides the fact that she's the most wanted person in a sixty mile radius is that this girl, this cute girl with the dimples and the pixie cut and the cool Turkish name has the softest skin Santana has ever felt.

And Santana can't stop touching it.

Uninhibited and uncaring if anyone watched, Santana stretched her fingers up and under the girl's shirt her fingernails raking across her skin drawing a throaty moan that only Santana was privy to. The girl wrapped her arms around Santana's neck pulling her in, her mouth latching on to soft places on Santana's neck.

It was Santana's turn to let out a groan.

There was so much going on. Too much. But, she couldn't stop herself. It was sensory overload and Santana was thisclose to crashing and burning and crumbling into ashes and rising and flying like some ecstasy fueled Phoenix on a mission.

And there was so much warmth.

She was sweating and her mascara was smudged around her eyes, she was sure of it. But, she didn't care. In the pit of her stomach was a ball of fire. Warm, warm, warm fire that was slowly creeping across her body up her stomach to her chest, across her collar bone, to her neck and down. And down.

And down.

To the heat that had pooled between her legs. Sending warm tingles to the tip of her toes.

And there were fingertips. Turkish girl fingertips. Playing her like a well tuned piano. Skating across the the tiny, thin material that Santana called panties and payed sixty bucks for.

As the girl's fingers began to travel back North, Santana wrapped a hand around her wrist. The girls eyes, amber and dilated looked to her for an explanation. For a direction. For verbal acknowledgment of a clear, wanton need.

"Don't." Santana's croaked, her mouth impossibly dry.

"Don't what?" The girl asked and Santana thought she detected a bit of an English accent. Her head cocked to the side in confusion. Do Turkish people have English accents?

She tapped her fingers along the the outside of Santana's panties, "Don't what?"

Santana's eyes were large and dilated and pleading. The black of her pupils competely consuming the brown iris. Lust and drugs and sadness.

"Don't move your hand."

The girl grinned and Santana gulped. But, she wasn't about to play this part. Wasn't about to hand herself over to some stranger with nondescript origin. With a groan she pried herself away from the girl and pulled her in the direction of the entrance of the basement and back up the stairs.

They burst through the doors and out into the street, the cool air raising goosebumps on their clammy skin. The night air doing wonderful things to her already overly sensitive body.

The girl looked around, her features giving away that she wasn't as confident as the drugs inside of her body had tricked her into believing she was. "Where are we going?"

"Shut up." Santana's voice was cracked, her throat dry. She licked her lips once, twice and again. To no avail. She needed something. She wasn't sure of what. Maybe water? Maybe to be back inside of the building dancing her ass off like she was minutes before. Maybe Julia? Maybe Brittany?

Maybe for her keys to fucking work, she thought as she jammed the key into the lock and jiggled it without luck. She pulled the key out and inspected it intently. She giggled as she realized it was her house key.

The girl wrapped her arms around Santana's waist and pushed her hair to the side as she began to suck on her pulse point. A loud moan escaped Santana's lips filtering into the night sky. She cheered as she successfully manuevered her car key into latch and unlocked her door. Opening the back door she pulled the girl down on top of her, their lips crashing together in a power struggle for dominance.

A struggle that the girl was destined to loose. Santana broke a part, holding the girl's head inches away from her own, her lips searching but feeling nothing.

"This isn't about you. Do you understand that?" Her voice was confident in spite of the crackling.

"Who's it about?"

"Wait, what happened to your accent?"

"What accent?"

Santana's face scrunched up even more-so, "Your Giles accent. In the basement you sounded as if you were some kind of descendant from a long line of Vampire slayer watchers."

"You're high." The girl laughed.

"So you're not Turkish?"

Ignoring Santana the girl began to scatter kisses along the length of Santana's jaw.

"What's your name?"

"Amy," came her muffled response.

"I love Amy Winehouse."

The girl laughed again, "What?"

"Nothing."

Santana pulled the girl's face back down to her own, their tongues tangling together roughly. She began to rock herself along Amy's bare leg, tiny moans fighting their way out of her mouth and into Amy's.

Amy's hand snaked up Santana's thigh and searched out her panties again. She let her fingers idle against the soaked fabric. "What do you want me to do to you."

Santana's eyes fluttered closed and a jolt shot through her stomach at the directness of the question. She sucked in a deep, laboured breath and breathed out, "I want you to kiss me."

Amy grinned as she bent her neck to capture Santana's swollen lips again, "Easy enough."

"Not there." Amy's lips barely grazed Santana's before she pulled back a lustful glint shining in her eyes. A look she saw mirrored in Santana's own.

"Where do you want me to kiss you, Santana?"

Another deep breath as Santana tangled her fingers into Amy's short hair. She pushed herself against the hand already placed between her legs, "I want you to kiss me there."

Amy grinned, licking her lips, "Easier, still."

Without another word Amy hiked Santana's skirt up. Using her well-toned ex-cheer leading calves Santana pushed herself up into a sitting position, her back against the car door. One leg dangling off the edge of the seat, the other hiked up over Amy's shoulder.

Pushing the thin fabric of Santana's underwear aside, Amy dipped her head down taking a tentative swipe at Santana's mound. Santana bit her lip as she stifled a cry and Amy took this as a sign to continue. She delved deeper. Her tongue prying apart the sticky folds of Santana and her teeth nipping at hot skin. Santana's legs trembled and twitched around Amy's head and her fingernails dug into the cheap plastic Jetta seats. Her chest heaved as she willed herself not to come too quickly. Throaty moans bounced around and as Amy's mouth latched onto the small cluster of excited cells a string of expletives floated out, some in English some in Spanish.

A finger entered Santana and her eyes shot open, her back arching off the seat. Swirling blue lights assaulted here already heightened senses, creating a swirling, glowing halo around their bodies.

Wait.

Santana's eyes widened. Blue siren lights.

As if reading her mind, Julia's hands slammed against the glass window her distended, glittering eyes shining with excitement for the moment. She focused her vision slowly realizing what scene she had just interrupted. Amy wiped at her mouth and Santana ungracefully tried to maneuver her skirt back down her hips.

A glint of anger shot through Julia's eyes as she snatched the door open and pulled Amy out, "Cops." She said simply her voice masking any signs of acrimony her eyes had given away. Even for the briefest of seconds.

From their obscured parking spot across the street they watched as bodies flew out of the building and scattered into the night like frenzied ants. The two cops tried to contain as many kids as possible as they radioed into their walkies for back up, but it was of little use as they slipped in and out of their clutches.

"Amy let's go!" A boy's voice yelled and Amy immediately ran after tossing out an, "That's my boyfriend," as if it was the world's easiest, most logical excuse.

From the crowd Mercedes emerged struggling to carry a completely inebriated Tina to the car. One of the cops, a beefy man with a mustache, hollered after them to stop. Mercedes eyes widened as she picked up the pace. The small contact high she had absorbed dissolved and was quickly replaced by a sobering fear.

"Stop!" Came the gruff voice again.

Tina tried to look back at him but Mercedes urged her forward. Her voice came out in a throaty rasp as she stretched her words, "What's he gonna do? Isss he gonnaa SHOOT me? Mercedes hee caan't shoot uss. We're kidss. And we're bothh mina-mina-minories? Whatever. We'ree both _colored_."

"Shut up, Tina." Mercedes reply was laced with fear. Regret swimming in her frantic eyes.

"That'ss _RACIST_, Cop!"

Breaking away from small staring contest she'd been having with Julia, Santana glanced over and caught sight of Mercedes dragging Tina and the cop hot on their tale. "Shit."

Tearing her eyes away from Santana, Julia followed her line of vision and quickly sprinted forward to help.

Santana pulled her skirt the rest of the way down and shot out of the car, racing over to the side closest to the pack of girls racing toward her to open the door. Sensing that he was on the losing end of this chase the cop cut his losses and grabbed at the kids closest to him, two super thin candy kids.

Santana opened the front passenger door and Mercedes deposited an ambivalent Tina into the seat. "Keys!" she barked at Santana.

"Hold up Wheezy, let's not get carried away."

Mercedes sent a quick punch sailing into Santana's arms. "_Keys_!" She demanded again.

Santana slapped the car keys into Mercedes awaiting hand, but didn't let go, "I'm a little high and that punch kinda felt good so I'mma let it slide. Do it again and I'll break you off a piece of Lima Heights."

Rolling her eyes, Mercedes snatched the ringlet of keys out of Santana's hand and bolted for the drivers seat. Julia and Santana dived into the backseat and before another word was said they sped out of the parking lot and down the street leaving dozens of kids behind them pleading for a ride.

* * *

Forty-five minutes into their ride back home and Mercedes had finally decided to stop white knuckling the steering wheel and drive at a speed that sort of resembled the legal limit. In the front seat Tina yammered on about topics ranging from Mike's abs to Artie's (surprisingly large) penis to particle physics and why Asian people should break stereotypes and not enter the medical field. Santana half listened as she filed each anecdote into her, "I Don't Give a Flying Fuck" file.

This night had been too much, too quickly.

She felt hollow and endlessly tired, but somehow wide awake and wired.

Julia scooted next to her, their legs flushed with each other. Her denim jeans on Santana's bare legs.

More skin, more warmth.

She let her head lull back as she turned to find Julia staring. Their eyes locked again and Julia placed her hand on Santana's bare thigh sliding it back and forth reveling in the texture of the soft skin.

Santana stifled a hiss. The throbbing in the pit of her stomach and in the middle of her legs building back quickly. She was so intent on coming too hastily earlier that she never got to at all.

"What are you doing?" Santana's voice was a gravelly whisper.

Julia slightly lifted her fingers and raked her nails across Santana's leg, "What were _you_ doing?" She asked matching Santana's whisper.

Santana shrugged her shoulders, "Getting my mack on."

The teasing fingers nails stopped and Julia abruptly grabbed at the flesh, squeezing tightly. Eyes shining with anger again. Santana bit back a whimper. Their eyes never parted from the each others. Anger and lust.

"What are you doing?" Santana asked again.

Without answering, Julia released her grip, but her hand stayed on top of Santana's thigh. Her fingers inched upward, stopping momentarily at the hem of her skirt to ponder the consequences of her actions only to throw it all to the wind as her hand dipped under the skirt and fingernails grazed against the side of her thigh drawing nearer to heat.

Santana's finally broke the eye contact when Julia's knuckles grazed against her panties and her eyes fluttered shut. Julia gulped back a moan at the sight of Santana, eyes clenched shut legs just slightly parted so willing to just give herself over. She gulped at the heat that was radiating off of her in waves against her hand. At the pressure the was steadily building between her own legs.

She check to make sure the two in the front seat were still oblivious and they were. Mercedes was hell bent on her mission to get them home without a trip to juvie and Tina was currently harping on hardships the modern goth girl faced. Or something like that.

Julia turned her attention back to Santana and slowly slid a finger behind lacy panties. Santana braced herself a silent mantra going off in her head,_ not to moan, not to moan, not to moan-_

Another finger rubbed at her slit-

_Not to moan loudly at least_.

Julia maneuvered her entire hand into Santana's panties and raked brutally slow against her. Santana's felt her leg twitch into Tina's seat who prattled along, unaware. Her right hand clutched at the arm rest.

And then-

Nothing.

Julia removed her hand, taking a moment to stare, amazed, at the fluid coating her hand. Tangible signs of an internal want that Julia knew she couldn't satisfy.

Santana watched as Julia wiped her fingers against her jeans and scooted back over to her side of the car, refusing to make eye contact. Her already erratic heart seemed to be working double time as she tried to discern what just happened. There were words floating inside of her head, but she had forgotten how to use them. She pulled her legs together, as tightly as possible and rested her head against the window.

Julia was just another person who didn't want her.

Too much again.

Too quickly.

* * *

She had told everyone she was going for a walk after they had pulled their funds together for a room at a local flea bag motel. Mercedes had been against it originally but as Santana begin to threaten to cal Puck over she had finally acquiesced and let her go out with strict instructions to not leave the parking lot.

That was thirty minutes ago and nine unanswered phone calls later.

She found herself throwing two twenty's at a cab driver and standing outside of Brittany's house. Sweaty and cold. Her body trembling from excitement and exhaustion.

Julia hadn't spoken to her since the car ride. She had dipped out of the back seat as soon as they pulled up to the hotel and had since been ignoring Santana. Not that she cared. It was her loss.

It was all their losses. Puck's and Turkish, British girl Amy and Julia and Brittany and Finn. _Fuck _Finn, that doughy, freakishly tall toddler with crazy nipples, could eat a dick. Seriously.

She entered inside of the gate and quietly made her way around the house to Brittany's bedroom. First she tried to just open the window but it was locked. If this had been any other Friday night a few months ago it would've been unlocked and cracked open, already waiting for a half inebriated or completely stoned Santana to craw through it.

She tapped her fingernails against the glass. Once, twice. When no one appeared she used her knuckles to knock lightly. A small crash and then a groan and moments later a groggy Brittany appeared at the window.

She opened it, "Tana, wha's wrong?" She asked yawning.

"Is Artie here?"

"My parent's don't let Artie spend the night, you know that." Brittany rubbed the sleep from her eye. "Do you wanna come in?"

Santana shook her head, "Yes" and Brittany stepped back to let her scurry through the window. She sat on the bed and Brittany grinned down at her any signs of being sleepy no longer apparent.

"It's good that you came tonight."

"Why's that?" Santana asked not bothering to look up.

"Because Charity and Lord Tubbington are out on a date. I told them to be in before twelve but they never listen. We have the whole room to ourselves."

Brittany sat down next to her, placing her hand on Santana's thigh. She was expecting the same glorious feeling she'd been getting all night from contact with others, but got nothing. If anything Brittany's hand felt heavy and way too hot.

No warmth, just a searing pain. "It's been so long since we've done this."

Santana quickly stood, "I didn't come here to have sex with you."

The smile disappeared from Brittany's mouth and her head fell, "Then why are you here?" Her voice was small and sad, "It's only four a.m shouldn't you still be out with Mercedes and Tina and your new best friend?"

Santana's ears perked up as she realized that mingled in with Brittany sad voice was jealousy. But, she was too exhausted to even enjoy that one small victory properly. She sat back down on the bed and rested her head against Brittany's shoulder. "I'm here because I'm high and I'm coming down."

"What did you take?"

"Unicorns, Britts." Santana sleepily replied.

Brittany began to fiddle with Santana's fingertips, "I don't know what that means, but do you want to sleep here?"

"Is that okay?"

"I never told you to stop, Santana."

Brittany set Santana's hand down and pushed back against the head board, diving under the blanket. Santana kicked off her shoes and her jacket. Opting to keep the dress on instead of changing into her usual nakedness for sleep time with Brittany.

Brittany bit her lip when she realized that Santana was going to stay dressed. Something Santana never did, not even when it was really cold. Brittany would always warm her up. "Do you want a shirt to sleep in?" She asked hoping to mask the disappointment she knew Santana saw on her face with hospitable concern.

Santana pulled the blanket back and sank down into the bed, letting out a appreciative sigh as her weary body began to relax, "I'm okay."

They lay in silence on their backs, staring up at the ceiling. Brittany wondered if she should start singing to make things less awkward. It always made Santana smile when she sung. Or maybe she could knock out an impromptu dance routine. Santana likes that too. A lot. Because usually, when she gives her a private dance, her body gets all tense and her eyes get dark and she can tell that Santana wants her even if she never ever says.

And she never ever said it.

She just pounced and had her way and Brittany let her because she liked it but when they were done Santana would pretend like nothing happened. Or she would text Puck. Or she would remind Brittany that it didn't mean anything.

Until recently.

But, even though Brittany knows Santana would never lie to her, she can't help but wonder if the reason Santana wants her so much is becuase Artie wants her too. And Santana has always wanted what made other people happy or what she couldn't have.

"Britts?"

Uh-oh. Brittany froze. Could Santana hear what she was thinking? "Yeah?"

"We had sex last Tuesday in Mr. Kidney's supply closet, don't you remember?"

"It's not something I would ever forget." Brittany turned on her side to face Santana who stayed motionless on her back, her eyes half closed.

"You said that it's been a long time since we've done this."

"It has."

"It's been three days."

Brittany giggled and used her arm to prop herself up, "No, I meant since we had like actual sex. Not hot janitor's closest sex."

Santana opened her eyes and turned her head to face Brittany, regretting it immediately. Brittany's the kind of beautiful that hurts to look at. "What's the difference?"

"Well..." Brittany didn't know if she should go on. But, Santana was talking to her. Santana was in her bedroom. She wasn't about to make her angry, for any reason. "...You're different."

"How so?"

Brittany fiddled with a fraying thread of her pillow case, unraveling it even more-so, "Well when we have sex in Mr. Kidney's closet you're like crazy impatient. Which isn't that out of the ordinary for you. But, you're way rougher, which I like a lot. But, when we're in my bed or your bed you take your time more. You like, unwrap me. And you kiss more. You kiss me all over. And..."

Her voice trailed off. Santana rolled over on top of Brittany laying her head against the bare skin the v-neck shirt didn't cover. Her heart beat drummed inside of her ear. "And what, Brittany" Santana prodded.

"...And when you were still hooking up with Puck and you guys would sext or he would call you for phone sex you would sometimes tell him about the stuff we did in Mr. Kidney's closet or in the bathroom at Breadstix or on the bus ride to cheer competitions. But, you would never tell him about the stuff we did in our beds..."

"That stuff was for you and I, Brittany. Not for stupid boys or anyone else for that matter." Santana's voice was muffled against Brittany's skin.

Brittany smiled, "I know. I liked that. I liked that you didn't tell him. I like that there was parts of me that you didn't want to share."

Santana peppered kisses across the exposed flesh, let her teeth rake across the thump, thump, thump of Brittany's heartbeat. "I don't want to share you at all, anymore."

Brittany pulled Santana up to her so she could bury her face into the smaller girl's shoulder and wrap her legs around Santana's waist, "I don't know what to do, Santana."

Brittany's voice was small and pleading and confused. She was searching for an answer. Santana had none. "Let's just sleep, Britt."

Brittany pulled Santana's face in front of her own and dusted a few kisses to her cheek before placing one softly on her lips. She grinned, "Okay."


End file.
